


Now That We Are Older

by ReineDesPapillons



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Older Characters, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReineDesPapillons/pseuds/ReineDesPapillons
Summary: A big event in Stiles' life brings everyone back to Beacon Hills.





	1. All We Ever Knew

In the beginning, there were six. 

It would be easy to say that it all began with Scott and Stiles, who had been best friends since preschool. Or that eight-year-old Lydia’s gap-toothed defense of the boy who had just lost his mother was the real catalyst for what came later. 

But Allison was the reason why Scott started spending time with Jackson and Lydia. She convinced Lydia to go to the dance with Stiles when they were sophomores, and she was the one who demanded that Derek put his initials right by theirs, at midnight on the first day of senior year. 

It was kind of funny, how it all worked out. Not in a clutch your sides and gasp for breath kind of way, but tragically funny. Unexpected slice of life moments, that sort of thing. Erica, Boyd and Isaac didn’t want to live in Beacon Hills after their English teacher tried to kill them, and Chris Argent had no desire to stay in the town that kept taking his family from him. So he took in three teenagers, werewolves all, and adopted them before Christmas. They moved to Paris. 

Allison stayed behind.

Malia moved away, too. And so did Kira. 

Senior year came and went. 

In another reality, just two steps to their left, their guidance counselor started a war. 

In their world, though? There were suitcases to pack and flights to catch, apartments to rent and classes to schedule.

***

_May 12, 2024_

“Listen.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, then started adjusting his tie. He sighed when Lydia smacked his hands away. “Stop!” 

“You stop, first.” Lydia shook her head at him. “You’re not allowed to strangle yourself. The funeral is over, take the tie off. Your dad won’t care.” 

Stiles’ frustrated smile faded and he nodded, loosening the knot at his collar. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Where else would I be?” Lydia looked around. “What do you want to do, right now? I know what you’re supposed to do, but there’s no law that says you have to pretend to care about casserole dishes or flower arrangements.” 

“I want to resurrect my father.” Stiles blurted. “But I’ve seen enough horror movies to know exactly how that would go wrong.” 

Lydia hugged her ex-boyfriend when he started to cry. It had been years since the break-up, but she had never stopped thinking of him as one of her best friends. “Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.” 

After a few deep breaths, Stiles stood up straight and wiped at his eyes. “There’s a lot of money left over. Uh, life insurance and everything. And I’m selling this house. I can’t - I can’t live here. It would be too weird. They’re both gone, and it’s not mine, you know?” 

Lydia nodded in understanding. 

“I have money, too.” Derek said quietly. “We could donate all of it. Or hold onto it. Just in case something else happens.” 

“I was thinking about buying a house. Somewhere that isn’t here.” Stiles admitted. “I’m at the Seattle office. I could... I mean, I’ve had an apartment. But I don’t...” He shook his head. “I don’t feel like talking.” 

“So don’t talk.” Scott hugged Stiles. “We’re here for you. All of us.” 

Allison wrapped her arms around Stiles from the other side and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Jackson’s here, too. He said he just wanted to pay his respects.” 

Lydia smiled softly and excused herself, wandering through the crowd of mourners to seek out her other ex-boyfriend. 

“I’m stealing a bottle of Jack and we’re going out to the Preserve.” Scott said suddenly. “All of us. Because when your best friend loses a parent, you get your best friend drunk.” 

“You don’t have to steal it, you’re an adult now.” Derek shook his head, smiling at Scott. “But yeah, let’s get out of here.” He paused, studying Stiles. “I mean, if you want to.” 

“I want to.” Stiles agreed. He shrugged off his suit jacket and yanked his tie away from his neck, draping both articles of clothing over a chair. His shirt cuffs were rolled up to his elbows and he traded his loafers for sneakers, ignoring everyone who tried to talk to him about how much they missed his dad as he wandered through the house. He understood, but he wanted them to shut up. He stayed silent on the drive out to the Preserve, the bottle clutched tightly in his hands. He took drinks from it. He didn’t care, he wasn’t the one driving anyway. 

Lydia, Allison and Jackson set folding canvas chairs in a circle, around a portable fire pit. They patted Stiles’ shoulders when their friend sat down, and then Jackson sat beside him. 

“How have you - fuck, nevermind, stupid question.” Jackson muttered. “Your dad was a good guy. I thought you might need extra support for this, so I wanted to come back and help. I know that we weren’t very friendly in high school, but you didn’t let that stop you from being there when I needed someone. A few times. I thought I’d just return the favor.” 

“Thanks.” Stiles looked down at the bottle in his hands. “I had to know how it happened. Uh, he was asleep. So it wasn’t, like... it could’ve been worse. And I guess he’s with her now, you know? My mom, I mean. So. They’ll be fine. They’re together. He’s a lot older than her, now. I wonder sometimes, how that works.” He snorted, then shook his head and took another drink, grateful for the burn of the alcohol in his throat. “Do you think he just reverts back to her age?” 

“I think we won’t have a clue until it’s our turn.” Jackson shrugged. “But I kind of figure that there aren’t any physical limitations or anything. They’re just souls, now. Lydia probably knows better than we do, right?” 

“Stop.” Scott protested. “Drink. Talk about other things. What kind of house do you want, Stiles?” 

“Uh, a big one?” Stiles murmured. “A place with a yard and a dog. I haven’t been... I don’t really need a big house. I don’t have anyone in my life that would make me want one. But I just don’t want to feel like the walls are closing in on me. I feel trapped, right now. Not because of you guys! Just, all of this. It sucks.” 

“Tonight, you’ll get drunk. And tomorrow, you’ll have the world’s worst hangover and feel regret for it.” Lydia said sagely. “But the day after that, you and Derek can look at houses in Seattle that you can both put money toward.” 

“I guess I just thought my life would be so different from this.” Stiles blurted. He looked around, suddenly feeling panicked all over again, like he had been when he got the news about his father. “Scott and I were going to be next door neighbors and I’d be married to Lydia, and he’d be married to whoever, and we’d have one fenced-in yard instead of two separate ones. Or, or when we were older, like...” He sniffled, shaking his head. “During college, I thought I’d get a phone call one day and he’d be telling about how he met the perfect girl and they were going to get married, and I’d be like, ‘You had one date, shut up.’” He laughed sadly. “But I’d still be his best man and then I’d meet someone at the wedding. But that was supposed to be during college. I’m twenty-nine freaking years old and I was going to have a son and teach him to play baseball and go to games with him and my dad, and make my dad change at least two dozen dirty diapers and laugh about it, and that’s not ever going to happen now, because he’s...” 

“You could adopt.” Allison said gently. “I’ll ignore that bullshit about how old you are, since I'm a year older and Derek is ancient, compared to me.” She smiled at Derek, who flipped her off as he smiled back. “Anyway, my dad adopted and now I have three siblings, all whom I tried to murder at one point or another. Christmas finally stopped being awkward. And Jackson is adopted, a fact that he never let us forget, in high school. Adoption could be a good thing.” 

“I think he’s lamenting being single.” Lydia mused. “Sorry, I can’t help you with that.” 

“Neither can I.” Jackson shook his head. “But I can help with the house hunting. Legal paperwork and everything. I’m a lawyer.” 

“Is that your new version of ‘I drive a Porsche,’ then?” Stiles leaned back in his seat and took another drink from the bottle in his hands. 

“If you don’t want me here, I can go.” Jackson sighed. 

“No, don’t.” Stiles protested. “I just need things to be normal. I need them to be like they were. I don’t like this planet, right now. Okay? It’s not you. It’s everything. I hope you never have to go through it, but I figure that’s kind of stupid, too? I mean, we’re all going to have to, at some point.” He glanced over at Derek, nodding as though the older man had answered a question that Stiles hadn’t bothered asking, before he looked at Allison. Of the six of them, he felt like he understood Derek and Allison the most. It was so strange for him, since he thought Scott would be his lifelong best friend. But they were much too different, and that had finally caught up to them. He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky and squinting as he tried to figure out if there was a particular moment when it had happened. Maybe it was the day he went away to college, but he didn’t think that was it. It could have been the third or fourth ‘sorry, something came up’ between them, and that wasn’t just on Scott’s end of things. “I hate growing up. Fuck it.” He twisted around in his seat and threw the bottle, shattering it on a tree trunk. “Nothing was supposed to be like this.” 

“You can daydream for the rest of your life.” Lydia said quietly, watching as Scott dutifully retrieved the broken shards of glass, to prevent wild animals from hurting themselves. She smiled faintly. Some things never changed. “Or you can focus on reality. You’ve got a good career, you’ve got good friends.” 

“I don’t have my dad.” Stiles muttered, leaning forward in his seat again and resting his hands on his knees. 

“Maybe not, but that was an inevitable event.” Allison sighed. “I can’t say I know what it feels like to actually lose both parents, but I’ve done all right with only seeing my one remaining parent once a year, at most. It’s going to take time to adjust. I think you’ll be fine. It’s not like you would be the type of person to go try to kill someone, just to try to ease your pain. I would be insulted at you copying me, if you did.” She kept her tone light, but she wrapped her arms around herself, like she was suddenly cold. 

“Can you guys just promise me that you won’t leave me?” Stiles kept his gaze on his shoes, not wanting to see pitying looks on anyone’s faces. “I mean, not ever. It’s fine that we’re all in different places. I can’t expect us to all be in one spot and happy. But just keep in touch?” He looked up after a moment, when nobody said anything, and his gaze fell on Jackson. “Even you. I know that we didn’t get along very well, but the reasons for that were pretty fucking stupid and I don’t want to do it anymore.” 

“I can do that.” Jackson agreed. “I don’t actually have your phone number, but I’ll -” He laughed when Lydia took his phone out of his coat pocket and started adding Stiles’ information as a new contact. “Let Lydia run my life for the next three minutes.” 

Stiles was going to say something snide, but his heart wasn’t in it, and then he was distracted by Derek, of all people, building a fire in the pit that they were gathered around. He bit his lip, almost transfixed at the idea that someone whose life was destroyed by fire could disregard that, in an effort to help his friends. It was much colder than he expected, for this time of year. Jackson was the only person with a jacket, and Stiles knew Allison well enough to recall that she would refuse someone offering to loan her anything, in the interest of staying warm. “Thank you.” He murmured, rubbing his hands together. “I just want to sleep right now. Like if I wake up in the morning, this will have turned out to be the worst nightmare I’ve ever had, but it’ll be over. With all of the crap I’ve been through...” He shook his head. “I knew it wasn’t a hallucination. I mean, my mind’s been clear. I’ve been working really hard at keeping it that way. It’s almost like all of that stuff happened to someone else, sometimes. But this is just bullshit. If he was here, he’d tell me that it’s part of life - like you guys have said. Like I’ve said. But that doesn’t help? I was just talking to him about two weeks ago about vacation time and we had this plan, to go see at least one Mets game. It was something we were going to do, next month. Nobody tells you that you have to provide a suit and clean underwear for a corpse. I knew that. I’m not stupid, I’ve read up on it. I remember, however vaguely, that there were conversations about my mom when she died. Like, how would she wear her hair, or whatever. ‘What kind of flowers does he like, Mr. Stilinski?’ He doesn’t like any, he’s got a pollen thing, except it’s not like that’s really going to bother him now, is it? Buy all the damned flowers, what the fuck can he even do about it? Hey Dad, we’re all down here drinking your whiskey and coating your house in flower sperm!” He sighed when five pairs of eyes started carefully avoiding looking in his direction. “I’m just a real joy to be around. I’m gonna go home. Not home. The - the house.” He stood up, looking around for the bottle before he remembered that he had broken it. 

“Do you want someone to drive you?” Derek asked softly. 

Stiles shook his head. “No, I’m gonna walk.” He started toward the path, not surprised when Scott and Derek quickly conferred about who was going to follow him and who would go ahead in a car and have things ready for him when he arrived at the house on Woodbine. He wanted to thank all of them a thousand times over, for what they had done for him since he called to tell everyone what was going on. But this was the sort of thing he would have done, if it had been anyone else. He felt like that was something he should be allowed to expect from other people. Half a mile out of the woods, he started crying. The footsteps behind him sped up, and Scott wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him the rest of the way, ignoring his tears because that was exactly what Stiles wanted, and he didn’t have to explain himself. Outside of the house, he stared at the front door, then turned toward Scott. “I just need you to know that I love you.” He said carefully, rubbing his eyes. “I keep trying to remember if I said it enough. If I ever forgot it even once, when I shouldn’t have. Or if I said it too much? Is that a thing? Like maybe, stupid as it sounds, there’s some kind of life quota on ‘I love you’ and I said it all the time, and he died because that was it. In which case, I don’t love you, I fucking hate you. You’re not allowed to ever leave me. I’ll fucking follow you, I swear to god. I was gonna do it once, I’d do it for real. You know that.” 

“I think between the two of us, I’m less likely to die.” Scott made a face as soon as the words left his mouth. “I don’t want to talk about death or think about it. I’m sorry your dad is gone. He was like... not like my dad, he was just... he took care of all of us. I know that’s where you get it from. This is a weird way of saying it, I think. But I’m glad we get to take care of you, for a little while. The circumstances are awful, though. But hey, everybody has gone home. Except for us. Derek and Lydia threw out all of the flowers and saved the cards, and Allison put a blanket in the dryer for a little while, so it’ll be nice and warm when you go in. Jackson’s making phone calls about some legal stuff that I don’t really understand. All you have to do is rest, and we’ll take care of everything.”


	2. After the Moment With You

_August 1, 2024_

Stiles finished shelving the last of his books and stepped back to take a look. In his apartment, his books had taken up nearly every available surface in his bedroom. Here, they barely filled one shelf. But that was something he had expected, since the bookshelves took up the entirety of one wall. His clothes were in his closet and his dresser, and everything else had been set up around the house. It had six bedrooms and four bathrooms, and he had felt foolishly optimistic when he had seen opportunity for everyone to come visit. The closets were massive, practically bedrooms themselves, and he knew Lydia would be thrilled with something like that. But she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore, and hadn’t been for years. 

It was mutual, he wasn’t pining. 

He was lonely. 

“Okay.” Derek called out, walking into the library. “I knew you were going to be distracted with making sure your books are arranged perfectly, so I ordered food for you. It’ll be here in about half an hour. I have to get the moving truck back to the rental place, so I’ll go take care of that, and I’ll call you when I get back to Beacon Hills.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles kept his gaze on his books, determined not to beg Derek to move in with him. He felt incredibly young, all of a sudden, and being on his own in such a big house - why he he bought this thing, anyway? - it was too much. “Drive safely.” He tore the tape off of the bottom of the box containing his books, then folded the box flat and set it with the others. “I’ve got furniture coming in the next couple of days, too. I’m kind of relieved that I got to reschedule my vacation, even though that was a shitty thing to have to explain.” 

“Stiles-” Derek frowned. 

“I mean, I only talked to him twice a week, and he always nagged me to get out and date someone. I would say I didn’t have time and he would say that if I didn’t make time, I really wouldn’t have time, and I’d just be stuck where I was. I don’t think it matters, though. I mean, he’s gone, so he can’t lecture me about how he never got grandkids. It’s a little easier every day, and the first time I realized I hadn’t thought about him in more than three hours, it was like the wind got knocked out of me. I’m going to be fine, I know that. It’s just that I decided I wanted this big, stupid house, and you’re not going to be here, and my dad won’t ever see it, and there are Lydia-friendly closets and a swimming pool that Jackson would drool over, and Scott could be a vet down the street at that place I saw when we were looking at this one, and I don’t know why I let you convince me that this was the best place for me.” 

“I said you might want to consider a two or three-bedroom house and you said you wanted your money and mine to go to a better cause, and that a house with a sauna was a better cause.” Derek scoffed. “I don’t care where it goes, I was just tired of trying to figure out what to do with it. I know donating it would have been a better plan, but it felt like profiting off of my family being dead, I guess. I’d rather it went toward making you happy. Or at least somebody I know.” He frowned. “What do you want me to do?” 

“I want you to not leave.” Stiles admitted. “But if you’re going, you should go. I’ll be fine. I can do the adult thing. Or the grown-up thing, I mean. The adult thing is something else.” He smirked. “Go. I’ll be okay. I swear.” 

“Somehow, my life is a Ramones song.” Derek muttered. “I wasn’t planning to make it back to Beacon Hills tonight, so I have my stuff in a bag, in my car. Do you want me to stay here?” 

“Yes!” Stiles snapped, nodding. “God, do you even listen to me? I cannot handle this! I bought a house for the von Trapps, Derek! I don’t belong here.” 

“I think that library says otherwise.” Derek smiled. “Stiles, you’re going to be fine. Just take the boxes to the recycling bin. It’s the blue one. After that, if you just sit down and watch tv, the food will be here in no time. I’ll take care of anything else that you need done around here, and then we’ll have dinner.” 

“We’ll have dinner?” Stiles repeated. “That sounds like you ordered something for yourself.” 

“I did.” Derek grinned. “You haven’t changed a whole lot in the past thirteen years. Being alone is something that scares you. I don’t like it very much, either. I was actually trying to figure out how to ask you if it’s all right if I live here. I know I probably have the right to just move in, since most of the cost of this place was paid with my money, but it’s still your house. I wouldn’t just barge in on you like that. I’ve kind of been in stasis, in Beacon Hills. I work when I feel like it, but I mostly just sit at home and read books or watch movies. I think a change of scenery is a good thing for me. If you’re okay with it?” 

“I was fully prepared to systematically steal everything you own and bring it here.” Stiles laughed. “Have dinner with me, renew the rental on the truck, and we’ll go get your stuff tomorrow. I have a lot of books you probably haven’t ever read. Just don’t dog-ear the pages. That wasn’t a joke at your expense, by the way.” 

“Haha.” Derek rolled his eyes. “I’ll make a deal with you, though. I think you should try to date someone. And if you do that, then I will, too. All of that ranting you did, not that it wasn’t something you deserved to do, got me thinking about how I haven’t tried to move on and have a family because I was still mourning the one I lost. I figured out years ago that it actually wasn’t my fault, after all. But I just kind of stopped after that revelation and never moved forward.” 

“So, checklist.” Stiles mused. “House, spouse, pet and babies.” He carried the cardboard stack out to the recycling bin, but a new question on his mind had him rushing back, sitting down by Derek in the living room. “Hey, what happens if one of us ends up in a legitimately good relationship? Does the other one have to get the hell out?” 

“Um, let’s worry about that if it becomes a problem.” Derek said gently. 

“When.” Stiles corrected. “Because I’m going to get a girlfriend before you and she’s going to be freaking awesome and we’ll be married in a year and you’ll end up back in Beacon Hills.” He shook his head a moment later. “I’m losing my touch at trash talk.” 

“You were good at it, once?” Derek teased. 

“Yeah, I threatened to shove wolfsbane up somebody’s ass.” Stiles shrugged, smiling. “Why is everything so complicated, now?” 

“It was before.” Derek pointed out. “You just didn’t notice because you were too busy trying to survive.” He eyed the plain white walls in front of him, then looked back at Stiles. “We need paint.” 

“Adding it to the list.” Stiles nodded in agreement. “Did you get another look at the view over the water, from the balcony? I feel like Gatsby in this place.” 

“Why? Is Lydia moving to the other side of the bay?” Derek laughed. 

Stiles frowned, shaking his head. “Seriously, I haven’t wanted her in a long time. We broke up after she finished classes at MIT and any remarks I made a few months back were just the mumblings of a drunken, sad idiot. Okay?” 

“When is the last time you dated?” Derek gave Stiles a curious look. 

“Last year.” Stiles looked sheepish. “I’ve been busy with work, and then this stuff, and it’s kind of hard to really get a relationship started when everyone is in such a hurry. I had one date where she set a timer on her phone for twenty minutes, set it on the table between us, and started grilling me like I was an accomplice to a murder. But to be honest, I’m not much better. I start comparing people to everyone I know, trying to figure out if Lydia or Allison would hate them, or if Scott would be mad at me if I broke up with someone he genuinely liked. That happened once, when I was a junior in college.” He eyed his watch, making sure the food wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon, before he squirmed to get more comfortable. “What about you? When’s the last time you dated?” 

“Four years ago.” Derek laughed when Stiles threw a pillow at him. “I wasn’t kidding. I just read, watch movies and work out. I haven’t made time to date. I guess I’ve been ignoring any need for it.” 

“So you just, what? Jerk off a lot?” Stiles guessed. 

“Inappropriate.” Derek grimaced, knowing that Stiles wouldn’t drop it until he got a real answer. “Yes, that’s what I do. Why do you have to know everything about everybody?” 

“Honestly?” Stiles smiled hesitantly. “Because if I know someone’s secrets, they can’t get away from me. I use things to my advantage all the time, and it’s because I’m actually, actively terrified of being left behind. It’s not as bad as it was. Or at least, it stopped being bad until a few months ago. Now all I see is that Scott’s going to have a family and he’ll forget about me. Not like that’s never happened before. Lydia’s going to conquer the planet and she’ll have Jackson to make sure she does it without repercussions, and Allison is going to do whatever she feels like doing, and you’ll fall in love and get married, and have a dozen kids. And I’ll just be... here. A big house full of nobody but me.” 

“You’re stupid.” Derek folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know where you even come up with this shit. Scott’s not seeing anyone, and if he did, he would have the same concerns as you. Allison can’t decide on things because she’s still having confidence issues. Jackson’s probably the most together of the six of us. And Lydia can’t rule the world because she wouldn't actually want to do it on her own. She gets just as lonely as the rest of us. How have you missed that?” 

“I didn’t.” Stiles protested. “I just tend to ignore weakness unless I want to exploit it for my own gain. What part of me being an asshole escaped your attention?” 

“The part where you kept putting yourself in danger to save me.” Derek stared at Stiles for a few seconds, lost in thought. “If I had to describe you in one word, it would be maddening.” 

“Thanks.” Stiles muttered. 

“I don’t-” Derek sighed when the doorbell rang. He got up to answer it and get their food, but Stiles was gone when he came back. He set the bags down on the table and went up the stairs, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he knocked on Stiles’ door, then opened it without waiting for a response.

“What if I had been jerking off?” Stiles snapped. 

“Then it would be a day that ends in Y.” Derek said calmly. “What I was trying to tell you was that you make me crazy. But I feel like that was probably a bit much, so let’s just forget I said it. Dinner’s downstairs. I’ll just eat mine in the kitchen or the dining room, or whatever room you’re not in, to give you privacy. Or to have privacy of my own. I still plan on getting my things and moving them in, but you don’t have to help me. You don’t have to do anything.” He went back downstairs. 

Stiles stared after him, feeling lost.


End file.
